Fire Street
by Scarlettplay
Summary: AH ExB alt POVs "They're not zombies," I said, more to myself than Edward. "Zombies can't speak. They talk." "Yeah, but they all say the same thing." He bit his bottom lip like he always did before he shot them down. "Help me," the boy said, closing in. "Please. Help me. Help me!" He chanted. But there was no help. We were the only two human left, uninfected by this plague.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"I can't do this—stop rushing me," I said through gritted teeth, my hands shaking as I kicked and struggled to break free.

"You're weak. Are you sick—becoming one of them?" Edward eyed me.

I shook my head, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

"If you're not going to do it, then let me." He reached over, taking the weapon out of my hand.

"We can't do this. Look at him." I pointed at the teenager dragging his way toward us, tears forming in my eyes. "He's coming to us for help."

"There's no help. You know that, Bella." Edward bit his bottom lip like he always did before he shot down whoever was after us.

"He's not drooling like the others, though." I grabbed my binoculars and took a hard look, then handed it to him.

He gave one quick peek and growled. "His eyes are bloodshot. He's at the beginning stages."

"Edward! Stop! He could just be sleep deprived like us. We haven't slept solid in a week since this outbreak happened." I tried to wiggle out from under the body on top of me, oozing warm sticky blood all over my legs. She was a heavy woman, and I was too small to really break free without Edward's help.

"Stop moving. You're messing up my aim." He closed one eye and held the rifle steady.

I gripped his arm. "If you do this, you know what happens. Not only does he not die right away when you shoot him, but you get a dozen more after us, and we're both trapped by this elephant woman." I grunted again as I tried harder than ever to free my legs.

Why did he have to wait until she was so close to snap her neck? His effort to move me out of the way before she fell on me got us both in this situation.

"It's just a cold. This boy's fine. See?" I pointed once more.

The boy's nose was running profusely, and then the drool started.

"Shit! He's infected." Edward's jaw tightened. "We have to. We don't have a choice. If he gets his fluids on us, we're done."

"They're not zombies," I said, more to myself than him. "Zombies can't speak. _They_ talk."

"Yeah, but they all say the same thing.".

"Help me," the boy said, closing in. "Please. Help me. Help me!" He chanted.

"Shhh," I told the diseased teenager, but it did no good. He was getting closer and louder.

"I need help!" the boy shouted. He put his hands over his chest, all his veins sticking out and bluish in color. He wheezed.

I had to look away. I always hated this part.

"It's not an option. We do this or we die," Edward said.

"Just tell me when it's over." I covered my ears and shut my eyes.

_Blaaaaaam!_

The shot rang out, and then there was a heavy thud to the ground. I opened my eyes.

The boy thrashed violently.

I wanted to cry, but I couldn't because I was now in full-blown adrenaline mode.

"We have to get out of here, now!" I shoved with my hands and strained at my legs.

Edward did the same.

Nothing was moving this lady.

_Shiiiiif, shiiiiif, shiiiiiif._

There was rustling in the bushes about twenty feet behind us.

"Maybe we can roll her together if you use the rifle and I use a stick." I reached for a nearby branch from a tree that had clearly been hit by some kind of grenade. The branches were all hitting the ground. It was where we'd been hiding last night as we took turns sleeping up in the few branches that still had some foliage to hide us.

"Ready . . . Go!" I snapped a branch, making entirely too much noise.

Edward panted at my side as he tried with all his strength with the rifle to move this corpse.

She inched slowly down our legs, and my knuckles blanched around the piece of wood I was using to rid myself of her dead weight.

I looked up, and we already had three more men and one woman all bearing down on us from different angles.

"Where the hell are we gonna go now? We can't gun them all down. It'll attract way more attention." I was finally able to bend my knees and free myself.

I went into a squat, though my legs protested with an angry throbbing sensation, and then helped Edward get free the rest of the way.

"I have a plan," he said.

"Yeah? You're gonna grow wings and fly us out of here?" I snorted, then kicked that hag for trapping us over the last twenty minutes. We could've died, or worse—been infected.

The blood trickling out of her eyes was a new one.

"They're getting worse. It's getting past the blood brain barrier quicker, and it's hitting their spine now," I told him, examining her real quick.

She was floppy, not rigid like she should've been.

"The virus must be mutating." He shook his head in disgust.

"How can it have this quickly? I mean, I was barely starting med school, but this seems unheard of."

"Help me!" one of them cried out, tripping on a body along the way.

Chills raced down my back. A beat later, my legs took off into a sprint.

"Wait," Edward called after me. "This won't work."

"I don't care—we can't stay here." I huffed as I legged it toward the nearest house.

"You know they're in there," he replied, catching up to me.

I dropped my head a little, ready to ram into anyone that might block me when I made my way inside.

"Follow me." He sucked in a tight breath, grabbed my shirt and yanked me his way.

_Clop, clop, clop, clop._

Several feet were slapping the sidewalk as they raced after us for "help."

They never listened when we told them we couldn't provide aid, but we seemed to be the only ones left who hadn't fallen ill.

My legs pushed harder. For someone in her mid-thirties, I was doing pretty good to keep up with his guy in his early twenties.

Edward pointed at a furniture store. "It should be empty."

I was ready to crash my way through a window if needed, but Edward tried the door and it opened without a problem.

How did he know?

"Been here before?" I whispered when we made our way inside.

It was dark for the most part, but there was enough light to see the place was definitely deserted. There were a few bunk beds at the back of the store, along with several couches smashed to bits, but mostly it was wide open.

"Why here?" I asked in a hushed tone.

"Shhh. Trust me," he whispered back, running, albeit silently now.

When Edward wanted to be, he was stealthier than a jungle cat.

What could he be thinking? How was this safer? We didn't have a way to bar that front door from the group chasing us.

Edward propelled me into the back mens' bathroom. I closed the door, making it virtually impossible to see.

"Open it for a second." He sniffed.

It smelled awful in here. I wrinkled my nose and did as he said.

When I cracked the door opened, there was a nasty squishing sound.

The floor was covered in a mixture of vomit and blood.

Edward climbed on top of the toilet tank lid, then pushed at a tile in the ceiling, hauling himself up a second later.

What would possess him to do this?

We had seconds before being discovered. Was he leaving me behind as bait?

"Edward," I hissed, angling my head over to the side, trying to see where he went.

"Close it and join me," he said low enough for me alone to hear.

"If I close it, I can't see."

"Just do it. I've got you covered." He motioned for me to hurry.

I closed the door, locked it, though that would do us no good, only buy us a few more seconds.

A light flashed at me from up in the ceiling. How did he get a flashlight?

I yelped when it hit me in the eyes, but wasted no time in reaching for him to grab me with his free hand.

The door was slammed into from the other side. "Help me! Please. I'm sick . . . I need medicine!" a woman screeched, banging down the door.

My eyes stung, and so did my throat as I bit back the urge to tell her I was sorry and there was no hope of helping her or anyone else.

I scurried as quietly as I could up into the framework with his help. My stomach twisted in knots. They knew we were in here.

"Help me and my baby!" another woman cried, her voice hoarse. "We'll get better. We can heal!"

Edward shook his head at me as my lips parted. He placed his index finger over my lips.

He knew my heart was breaking over this one. I'd lost my own baby six days ago. My breasts felt heavy all at once, remembering how a week ago I had been a nursing mother.

Tears trickled down my cheeks, and we crawled our way through the hot, musty attic space.

It was filled with boxes and various clutter.

"I've slept up here before," Edward told me a moment later when we were nearing the end of the space.

That explained how he knew the flashlight was up here.

Before I could ask him where we were going to hide or how we'd escape, Edward shoved open a window I hadn't noticed since it had been concealed by boxes.

"They won't see us. I promise." He pushed me in front of him, then shoved me through the window.

I bit back a scream as I flopped down onto a mattress below me in a hair salon.

"Uuuuuuuumffff." The air was knocked out of me.

I rolled onto my side so he wouldn't land on top of me.

"Quick," he said a second after dropping from the ceiling. "I put the boxes in front of it, so they won't see where we went."

"They'll figure it out." I wiped my bangs out of my face, my hands sticky with sweat, only making my hair grimier than it already was.

"They won't. They can't think straight. They're animals." He barreled through a back door, leading us into an alleyway.

"How is this better?"

"Car." He jerked his head toward an army-issued Jeep parked at the corner.

"Keys?" I swiped my hands on my moist shirt, hoping to find a dry spot.

"Of course." He pulled them out of his pocket. "It's mine." He grinned.

A few moments later, I yanked open the passenger's front door, slipped inside and before I knew it, we were rocketing down the street.

"Use this," he said, pulling from the backseat a large, scary-looking weapon.

"I'll wind up blowing us up instead."

He laughed. "I have faith in you, too."

I opened the window. As soon someone ran toward us, I hit the red button. Fire burst out of it, cooking the person on the spot.

"Oh God, this is . . ." Something inside me warmed. We just might make it.

"I was working on fixing that thing three days ago before I met you. I tried to rig it so even a small person like you could use it."

I smiled. "Mission accomplished."

"Sir," he added. "You're a soldier now—like me. I'm training you for survival."

"First you need to figure out how to get out of here." I pointed and shot another fiery blast at a screaming, hooded man.

He fell on the spot.

"Fire and brimstone." He nodded, smirking.

"Well, we're definitely paving our way to our own hell." Somehow it didn't seem as scary with Edward at my side.

**A/N:**

**I know, I know… I really don't have the time to start a new story, but I just wrote this for my Creative Writing class, and I loved it so much I wanted to continue it. Obviously, the names were different in what I submitted for a grade. I didn't think it was good enough to consider publishing, but wanted to share it with all of you. I'm not sure yet, but I'm thinking this might be a slow burn… I'm also thinking the POV will most likely change back and forth. Who knows where my muse will take me on this one.**

**Enjoy! I don't know how often I'll update. My life is crazy right now, Harkham's Choice just went live today (link in my profile if you're interested in buying a copy), but I couldn't resist. I've always wanted to post a zombie-type story. So here ya go…**

**Scarlett**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Edward continued to drive at a steady pace as if we had all the time in the world. Once we got out of the city, he relaxed, and even started whistling.

I stared at him, mouth agape. "How are you so normal right now?"

He smirked. "Trained for this shit, sweetheart." He saluted me and went back to whistling.

"Beastie Boys? Really?"

He nodded and kept grinning.

"You gotta fight! For your right! To paaaarty!" I sang along as obnoxiously as possible, pounding my fists in the air.

The jerking motion made my breasts hurt. There was a tender spot on my right one directly under my armpit. Shit. I knew what that meant. Plugged milk duct, and I'd probably get a breast infection soon unless I could get some warm wet compresses on it and massage it clear. I probably needed to hand express, too, since pumps would no longer work. Not that I could find any if I wanted to.

I sighed.

"Great tune," he said.

"Yeah—the best," I said emotionless, staring out the window.

There was nothing. No one around. No cars. No nothing. Just scrub brush and a few palo verdes here and there.

"Nice scenery," he said, his tone teasing.

"Yeah, it's about as remarkable as your choice of song." I snorted.

He chuckled. "I was referring to that."

When I looked back over at him, he motioned to my tee shirt, wet on both breasts about the size of a golf ball.

"Crap! I do _not_ need this!" I crossed my arms over my chest like I used to do and pressed as hard as I could under my armpits to stop the leaking. The one on the right made me wince. "Not now!"

"It's not a big deal. I think it's kinda hot."

I huffed. "This is not hot!" I jerked my head in his direction. "The fact they're leaking is bad. My milk should've dried up by now, but I've been trying to keep a breast infection from kicking in by hand expressing some each day to ease off the milk supply. Obviously, I was doing it too much if they're leaking like this from simple jostling around from my arms in the air."

"I dated this girl a few months ago with a three month old. Her milk wouldn't let down as much when she was stressed out. As soon as she'd relax, like after I fucked her, she'd spray all over the place." He winked and smiled, but it quickly faded when I glared back. "Look—all I'm saying is, we're out of danger now. I'm sure your body has figured that out. You've been running on pure adrenaline for days. It's not surprising your milk let down. The body is amazing like that. I think it's cool."

"It's only cool if it's feeding a . . ." I got choked up and had to stop. I couldn't even complete the sentence.

"I can pull over and give you a minute. Would that help?"

"No. Don't stop." I took a breath and held it. "I think I'll just climb in the back and take a nap if you don't mind."

"Good idea. But I'll keep whistling if _you_ don't mind to make sure I don't get groggy." He made a smacking sound with his lips.

"Sure, sounds good." I climbed over the seat as clumsily as possible. It didn't matter, though. I was too emotional to care at this point.

As soon as I was in the back, I had an idea.

"Edward . . ."

"Yeah?" His head started to turn toward me, but then he paused and straightened his posture.

Was he nervous I was hand expressing back here?

Actually, that was a good idea as well.

But for now . . .

"Do you have any water in this Jeep by any chance?"

"Yeah, actually under both the seats back there. Several water bottles I scrounged up and a few canisters besides." He whistled a really obnoxious Whitney Houston song next. It was the Bodyguard one that everyone went so psycho for a few decades ago.

I rolled my eyes really hard at that one. "You are not my bodyguard, you know . . ."

"Who says you aren't mine?" He chuckled and then rolled his head from side to side, stretching it.

Stiff? Yeah, I was pretty achy everywhere.

He slept in the worst positions possible when had been hiding together last night in that tree. Most of the time I didn't even think he slept at all. Yet, he was full of energy as if he'd gotten in a solid night's rest.

I leaned over, grabbed a water bottle out from under the seat, pulled off my shirt, folded it up and moistened it with the water.

He went really rigid when I sat back up. His eyes darted to and from the rear view mirror.

"I know you haven't seen me in my bra before, but I need a warm wet compress, otherwise I wouldn't be back here half naked," I told him. "Is there some place in this car we can put this damp shirt that it will soak up some of the engine's heat without putting on the heater in the car?" It was a little warm already, and I didn't want to add to that.

"Yeah, I can . . . Yeah." He put a hand up next to his shoulder.

I handed him my folded up wet shirt.

"Thanks. I just need to take care of something," I said, taking a huge swig of my water bottle, downing almost half of it.

"Take care of what?"

In a split second, I could've sworn he sniffed my shirt before he set on the floor, probably some spot that radiated heat.

Why would he smell it? Did I stink?

I took a whiff quickly next to my left armpit. Yes, needed a shower—definitely.

Shit. He was probably glad I was back here so he could finally breathe some non-putrid air.

"Okay, so, don't gross out. I mean, you might not, but I—"

"Shit, Bella, just say it. Have I freaked out about anything that has happened to us so far?"

I got a shiver and shuddered for a second. I didn't know why hearing he'd accept anything about me at all shook me, but it did. "I need to hand express. So far I've always managed to find a few moments alone to do it, but I can't really wait. I'm developing a breast infection, and I doubt you want to deal with me getting sick on top of everything else, with wherever it is we're going." I blew out, exhausted as my mind spun round and round, almost dizzying me.

He relaxed into his seat. "Go for it. But don't waste it, hon. Drink the rest of that water, then express into the bottle. We may need it."

"What did you say?" My shoulders rose up to my ears. "Why the hell would we save it?"

"Clearly, you don't know much about the antibacterial and antiviral properties of breast milk," he said, shaking his head at me, grinning.

"And how is it you know so much about it?" I cocked an eyebrow at him, sitting off to the side a little so I could see his expression.

"When I was in the Afghanistan three years ago, we wound up protecting this small village. One of the mother's there was protected because she was lactating. They had no means to get medicine because we couldn't leave and only got in shipments of food once a week. They used her breast milk as a cure all. They used it on pink eye. For earaches. Hell, they used it on cuts and scrapes, and even on one case of what we thought might be strep throat, and it worked. That stuff's a miracle. If I could, I'd figure out a way we could keep your milk supply to keep us both from getting infections or getting sick."

I gawked. "Really? They used it like that? And it worked? Did it bother her they were using her that way?"

He blinked and wrinkled his brow. "Not at all. She loved helping them out. It gave her a sense of giving back to her community. She actually felt bad they all had this sense of indebtedness to her and that they had to focus on keeping her safe. She wanted them to go about their business and treat her like everyone else—only turning to her when they needed some of her magical milk." He grinned.

"Wow. Okay, I . . . So, did you see how she expressed her milk?"

"Sure did." He stretched his shoulders a little bit now. We'd been driving for about an hour. Was it making him uncomfortable? Should I offer to take the wheel after I express?

"Did she do it out in the open?"

"We were all sleeping in one big house together on mattresses on the floor. She had no real privacy—at least, not without making a fuss about it. Nobody cared. I usually let her use my canteen to express it into. And then I'd wash it up real good afterward and then disinfect it." He groaned for a second.

"What's wrong?"

"We need to pull over."

"Why?" I looked around. Was someone following us, or did he see something he was nervous about?

He gave me a look like I needed to calm down. "I just need to add some oil. The light's coming on. This Jeep has had a small leak for a while, and obviously I don't have time or the means to repair it." He smacked the seat next to him where I'd been sitting, pulled over to the right and turned the car off.

I gulped down my water as quick as I could, my eyes following him carefully.

The second he was out of the vehicle, I had my bra cup flipped down and I was hand expressing on the right side into the bottle.

I had just started the left when he was back in the car, and barely glanced at me.

"Don't rush on my account." He smirked, sat down and shut the door.

I groaned. "Yes, because we're flirting now?"

"We're not doing anything but surviving, and if I get a glimpse of your full breasts from time to time, then I won't complain." He chuckled low in his belly.

"What am I supposed to say to this?"

"Nothing. Just do what you need to." He peeled out of the spot we were parked, and when I turned around I knew why.

One of those undead people was ambling out of the woods.

Why would they be out here?

"We're heading to Payson, by the way," he told me a few moments later when the silence had become stifling.

I finished milking my breasts, and put the lid on the water bottle that was now a third of the way full of milk. Bending over, I reached under the seat to place it with the water bottles and felt the handle of what was unmistakably a handgun.

I sat back up and set the milk bottle in my lap, unsure of where to put it now. It seemed horribly wrong to put breast milk next to a firearm. Goddammit, that was too much milk. Why was I producing this much still? And why was this so upsetting to me?

My eyes stung as he kept talking. All I could focus on was this milk that was supposed to be for my little boy.

I set it down in the footwell, unable to look away from it.

"Anyway, the cabin's not in the best shape, but it's secure. Should be. No one else lives in that area," he said.

"I'm sorry, what?" I blinked hard and shook off the emotions trying to take over. I didn't have time to grieve. I had to move on.

I had to.

"Why don't you rest, hon. Sleep and I'll let you know when we're at the cabin. We can talk more when we get there. Though we might have a lot to do before nightfall." He turned and gave me a look of concern.

"I'm okay. I'm good." I closed my eyes, and ignored the moisture collecting at the corners and the bottle of milk taunting me about a foot away from my face.

He whistled some soft tune. I wasn't sure if I recognized it or not, but it was lovely.

In no time at all, I was fast asleep, enveloped by the humming of the car's engine, and by Edward's protective presence.

.

.

.

"Holy shit, ever fucking loving God," I mumbled.

Bella was still snoozing in the backseat, thank God.

This was beyond fucked up.

My hands twisted on the steering wheel, and my teeth ground together.

"Ffffaaaaah," Bella exhaled behind me. She was stirring.

Fuck. Poor timing.

I whistled the song I had before to get her to relax and drift off, but this time it didn't seem to be working.

I always loved this song.

Such a sappy love song, but Kissing You by Des'ree always made me think of how I might make a woman feel if she fell for me.

I drove a little faster, but it didn't help. There were too many of them.

I blinked hard, wishing this wasn't happening and wishing there was another back-road path to take, but we had to go through the middle of town to get there.

This was sick!

Bella sat up and screamed. "Ahhhhh! Fuck! No!"

"Jesus, Bella, quiet down! They can't get us," I said, pointing to the ones on the right.

There they were—massive groups of these zombie people tethered to fences, cars, posts, all them with their throats slit, and all of them trying to cry out but no sound coming because their vocal chords had been severed. A few dogs were chained up every ten people or so. Were they protecting them? Why? And why weren't the people biting them like they did to humans? This made no sense!

The dead tried to walk toward us, yanking at their ropes, ties and chains ineffectually.

They clawed in the air at us as we passed, their eyes dazed as usual and bloodshot. Seeing us but not taking us in.

"Who would do this?" Bella cried out.

"I don't know. Government maybe? I don't know why they would think this was a good idea, though. How could this help any of them?"

She shook and gripped the headrest of the passenger's seat next to me, staring at all these helpless poor souls.

"They don't know they're dead," I reminded her.

"I know!" she snapped back. "You don't have to remind me. I had a baby crawling after me with no pulse and no—" She bit off her words and grunted, closing her eyes as she did it. Her lips sucked in, and she swallowed hard.

"The only reason I can think of why they would do this was either as an experiment to see if they cut off their voices and tried to bleed them out if they'd stop functioning? Without a purpose, they might truly die. Plus, they can't bite anyone if they're restrained." I paused and cocked my head to the side, watching them from the periphery. "Or maybe . . . What if they did this to put each of them out in the open and on display."

"You mean to keep them all in one spot where we can see what they're doing? Rather than them hiding in the houses?" Her voice shook. Was she still upset about her baby remark she just made? Shit. I didn't mean to bring that subject up. I was only making sure she didn't feel sorry for them and do something stupid because of it.

Women were emotional sometimes about death and wounded people. I wanted to keep her safe. I could only do that if she wasn't attached or had some damned idea about being noble and helping them.

These voiceless zombies couldn't speak, but they gurgled and moaned incredibly loud from their severed throats. It was horrific to listen to.

I wanted to whistle to cover it up, but there was no way I was going to be able to drown it out now that hundreds of them were doing this.

I maneuvered around a few cars in the street that must have stalled or crashed, because they were parked at awkward angles.

One of the dogs to the left broke free somehow and raced after us. I drove faster, but the fucker was on speed or something, because it managed to jump onto the back bumper and then jump onto the roof.

Bella screeched, and I slammed on the breaks, running over the nasty mutt the second it was on the ground.

The crazy thing was, the bones crunching sounded like metal being scraped against metal.

"What the fuck was that monstrous noise?" I asked.

Bella covered her mouth and cried silently, shaking her head, eyes wide.

It didn't get much better as we continued on our path.

More of these rotting corpses lined up on the streets, wobbling and trying to get us—all of them with slit throats and opening their mouths as if to scream and they made that excruciatingly awful grating sound.

A few of them dropped to their knees as if in pleading.

Bella cried harder when they did that.

I mashed my lips together so I wouldn't upset her again by reminding her not to pity them or feel anything for them at all.

Twenty minutes later we were on the outskirts of the city. There were signs that read, "We'll help you. We help all. Join us. League of Saviors."

I huffed. League of nonsense. There never was any help for any of them. Ever.

This was inevitable. With all the shit the government had going on to create killer viruses . . . Pfft, it was surprising it had taken this long for an outbreak like this to occur.

I drove down the barely passable path that was bumpy and loud to travel on.

Bella sat back in her seat, silent as ever, still staring out the windows as if ghosts were following us.

"It's not long now," I said loud enough she could hear me over the washboard dirt road.

"'Kay," she replied, arms folded over her chest.

My heart pounded and my chest warmed when I saw the edge of the cabin through the trees.

This was it! We'd survive here for a month or two—my parents had stocked this place well. Always had. And then we could figure out what to do as our supplies dwindled.

I shifted in my seat, grinning.

Two minutes later she was breathing shallowly behind me as we rounded a thicket of trees and there it was.

"Wow," she whispered.

It wasn't anything spectacular, but it was hidden and looked peaceful as anyone could wish for.

I parked the car around back, and the second I cut the engine off, my mom came flying out the door yelling, "Help me! I need help!"

Fuck no! I cried out with an anguished plea! "Nooooo!"

But it was too late. Bella had my gun out that I'd left in the backseat tucked away next to the water bottles, and she was out of the car, aiming at my mother's head, unaware of who this person was to me.

**A/N:**

**Not sure when I can update again. Soon hopefully. Now that Walking Dead has resumed, I'm all sorts of amped to write my own kind of zombie story. Enjoy!**

**I apologize for any errors. Didn't really get to spend tons of time editing or proofing. Barely had time to write the dang thing. Hehe.**

**Chanse**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I ran toward my mother as fast as I could.

She kept screeching, "Help me! Help me! I need help! Edward!"

I cringed at hearing my name. She couldn't be one of them if she recognized me, could she? They weren't that coherent. But all the signs were there—bloodshot, unfocused, glassy eyes, dripping nose and drooling, along with spastic, uncoordinated movements. For some reason she had claw marks all up and down her arms.

"Please, you have to help me!" came the cry once more as she picked up speed.

_Click!_

I turned just in time to see Bella pull the trigger, and I leaped toward my mother.

My heart pounded so hard I could hear it ringing in my ears. Each movement felt like it was happening in slow motion, no matter how hard I pushed myself to get to her as quickly as possible.

The second I reached toward her and was close enough to grab her, my mother growled and bared her teeth, ready to take a chunk out of me, but the bullet hit her in the chest first before I could contact her.

Her body slammed hard into the ground and thrashed violently, then a moment later she was up again, right back after me.

Holy fuck! I scrambled backward, stumbling and waving at my mother to stop. "It's _me_." My voice broke. "Stop!"

Bella took aim once more.

"No! I _said_ don't shoot!" I yelled at Bella.

Fuck! Another shot rang out.

My heart burst into a thousand shards as I watched it all happen.

I was too late. There was nothing I could do.

I swallowed down what felt like a bowling ball lodged in my throat. My eyes widened and filled with tears.

My mother had gotten to me and had her jaws ready to clamp down on my shoulder right when it hit her square between her eyes.

"No!" I howled. My stomach jolted so hard, I felt bile coming up the back of my throat. My head felt on fire.

I turned to my mom with no feeling at all in my limbs and some crazy thought that she'd somehow be okay—that this couldn't possibly be happening.

But that wasn't possible. There was no way my mother would ever speak to me again, because this time Bella's aim was perfect and went straight through my mother's skull, sending her flying backward. She landed at an awkward angle, her neck bent back so her chest was severely rounded and the blood spurted in huge gushes out of the previous bullet hole in her chest.

I froze on the spot, shaking in place, mouth twisted in agony. My hands balled into fists, and my mouth went dry.

She leaked out of the back of her head a moment later, staining the ground a nasty dark red. My mother was gone. Completely gone, and there was no way I could fix this.

My heart stopped, then sunk straight into my icy toes as I dropped on the spot to my knees. Tears burst out of my eyes, and I jerked my head toward the woman that had just annihilated my kindhearted, wonderful mother who would never hurt a soul. My jaw clenched, and I readied myself to scream in Bella's face that she was a motherfucking soulless murderer, but right at that moment my father came flying out the front door.

"Help me! I need help!" my father's gruff voice called out.

Oh sweet Jesus, no! Not him, too! This could _not_ be happening!

They weren't even supposed to be anywhere near the cabin. They were supposed to be back at their home in Phoenix, not at their summer cabin!

Bella's gun was back up, but this time a monstrous raging dose of adrenaline hit me, unlike anything I'd ever felt in any battle or soldier training I'd experienced. I jumped to my feet, then flew at her this time instead of my parent I was trying to save.

I could do this. I could get there in time. I'd get right. I had to!

I launched myself at her, tackling her to the ground.

"I _said_ don't fucking shoot!" I squeezed her wrist, disarming her in a split second, then shoved the gun in the back of my pants waistband. She made a pained, squeaking sound. Guilt flooded me and hit me hard in the gut, but I ignored it and kept my body on top of hers, trapping her.

"I protected you!" Bella grunted and tried to push me off her, but she wasn't strong enough for a guy built like me.

I was six foot four, and she was probably five foot two. She wasn't one of those waif's, but still . . . Not nearly strong enough to move a solid guy like me. She was soft with curves like a new mother should be.

_Mother_!

_My_ mother! She killed her!

"I helped you. She was going to bite you!" She squirmed under me. "She was one of them!"

I growled. "I don't fucking care! That was my mother!" Her face dropped. I kept trying to explain. "And that's my fath—oomph!"

My dad crashed on top of me, and right before he could bite the side of my arm I kicked and twisted as quick as I could, managing to fling him off. I grunted and rolled to the side. Within seconds, I had him pinned to the tree a few feet away.

Bella ran to the Jeep.

What was she doing? Hiding in there? What was with her and cars? Or maybe she was looking for another gun?

Jesus Christ, this woman was a nutball! She chose now to grow a spine and start gunning down the undead? Where was this woman yesterday when I needed her?

"Shit, woman! Why don't you try helping me?" I barked over my shoulder, sweat rolling down my back already from the exertion it took to hold my father in place. He was skinnier than I'd ever seen him, but he was still a big, wiry man with a little bit of a gut. Shorter than me by a few inches, but tough as hell like he'd always been.

His jaws snapped at me over and over. I dodged his teeth every time, but fuck, he was fast! And goddammit, chills raced down my back because I could almost hear the tendons breaking in his neck as he tried as hard as he could to bite me—his only living son.

My brother died in Afghanistan, while I survived.

Story of my life. I always survived when the odds were completely against me.

But maybe Bella was going to break that lucky streak today?

Where the fuck was she?

"Goddammit, Bella! I need some help here! Quit fucking playing around!" I jammed my knee into my dad's gut to keep him in place better.

He made gurgling sounds as I pushed my thumb into his trachea to keep him from talking or biting me. My other hand held his wrists together, but barely keeping a grip on them since he was tugging so hard.

His eyes were wild, and his spit flew everywhere as he tossed his head around and kept trying to get a hold of me with his teeth.

I had to close my mouth anytime his face came at me and look the other way so I wouldn't get his spit in my eyes. It might cause contamination. It made it harder to predict where he'd try to strike next, though, since I couldn't keep my sight on him at all times.

My arms and legs shook as it took every ounce of muscle and energy I had to keep him in place.

"Bella!"

Out of nowhere, she was almost under me, tying my dad's hands together with her bra. She had her damp shirt back on, braless.

As soon as she had his hands bound, she went for my belt and unbuckled it, brushing up against my dick several times.

Holy loving shit! It sent tingles racing down my legs like crazy. Why the fuck my body would respond this way under crisis was beyond me. This had never happened to me before. I always focused on my mission—always. Never distracted by anything or _anyone_.

"Kick his legs together, and I'll fasten them closed," she told me.

I knocked his bare feet with my biker boots and winced when my dad flinched and cried out in pain.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I don't want to hurt you."

My dad only looked at me like I was food.

As soon as she had his legs stuck together for good at the ankles, an idea hit me.

Not because I was staring at her breasts, because fuck, they were a little hard to ignore even if my dad was still trying to eat me—but I realized what I had to do to get my dad under control.

"Hold his neck with both hands to keep his head where it is," I said.

The moment she did it, I let go of his hands and neck, then tore my shirt off.

I put it over his head to blind him and keep him from being able to bite anything or anyone.

The second it was dark for him, he went almost completely still.

His legs twitched, but he wasn't lunging after me, thrusting his head at me to take a bite.

He was subdued.

"Wow, what just happened?" she mouthed at me.

"I think because he can't see, we're no longer here," I whispered.

His head inside the shirt tossed in my direction.

I smiled. "Follow me," I mouthed in her direction, then took him by the arm and led him inside.

She trailed behind me, and she immediately got choked up when she walked past my mother's body lying in heap.

I went cold at the sight of both my mother's lifeless body and the person behind me who made her nonexistence a reality.

Bella opened her mouth to say something. I shushed her, because I could tell she was about to apologize or explain. For now, I only wanted to get my dad inside, then we could deal with this—if there was even a way to _do_ that.

What was I ever going to say to the woman who killed my mother?

I marched my dad up the steps to the upstairs spare bedroom we never used.

When we were inside, I maneuvered him down onto the bed and held him there.

"Untie his hands. We have to secure him to the headboard," I told her. "There's some rope in the closet behind you." I jerked my head toward the sliding doors.

She strangled out, "Yeah, o-okay. I think I can." She gave me a hesitant look, then went about removing her bra she'd tied to his wrists.

My father's hands lashed out when the bindings went slack, but I caught both of them. I had the advantage since he couldn't see where to aim.

A moment later, she scurried off, found the rope and came back with it.

I climbed up on the bed, placed his hands over his head and motioned with my head for her to do it right now.

"Help me!" my dad whimpered from under my shirt. "I only want help! I'm sick!"

"We're helping you right now," she replied. "Giving you medicine, so you'll get all better, Mr.—" she gave me a questioning look like she was waiting for me to fill in the blank with his name.

Instead of supplying that, I jumped right in. "Yes, Jeremy, you'll be better soon. You only have to stay still for a few more moments as we immobilize you, then we can take care of you properly."

"Help me! I need help! I'm sick! Edward can help me! Find him! I need help!" My dad's voice shook and went higher in pitch. "Please, you have to help me!"

Bella's eyes flashed with fear. "He doesn't know it's you, does he?" she mouthed.

Tears collected at the corners of my eyes. I shook my head. This was beyond excruciating—it was my worst nightmare. Worse even than watching my brother get gunned down because of my stupid rookie mistake of believing a local I'd never met before when I knew better.

She finished tying off his wrists to the slats in the headboard, and I released him.

His legs kicked, and I slid off the bed before he could hurt me or himself.

I went to the closet and found some bungee cord I kept in there with some old camping gear I didn't need anymore. Thank God I kept all this shit here. I exhaled and ran a hand down my pants, since my palms were sweating.

I returned and fastened his legs down, too.

Bella tried to help me, but there wasn't much she could do without getting in the way, so instead, she stood next to my father's head and stroked his arm, cooing softly, "It's all right, Jeremy. We're helping you."

He didn't stop crying out, "Help me! I'm sick! Why won't you help me?"

Tears trailed down her cheeks. I couldn't watch because it made my stomach twist and my eyes sting and water.

"He's going to keep making noise," I said to myself.

Bella nodded but kept her eyes on my dad, even though his head was still covered with my shirt.

"Fuck," I said through my locked jaw. "Fucking hell." I kicked the wooden leg of the bed and groaned, gripping the back of my neck.

She looked over at me for a moment, and her eyes traveled down my chest, then stopped at my scar on my lower left abs.

The feel of her eyes on me, and especially knowing she was seeing that particular scar, even though I had dozens way more hideous than that one—well, fuck . . . Her gaze had me backing up a step. I felt on fire from those penetrating eyes. And goddammit, my fucking stupid dick twitched.

What the fuck? What was she doing to me? I never reacted this way! Stupid woman!

Her eyes flashed wide after she studied the scar, her mouth dropping open, then she turned away from me as quickly as possible.

I took a breath and let my head fall back. "We need to gag him."

Bella remained silent.

Fucking woman . . . Why I ever decided to protect her . . .

Nothing but trouble. God, I was such a tool—always a sucker for women in need of help.

My heart clenched when I thought of how I first met her—stuck in a car, staring off into space as if they could have her if they were smart enough to break in. She didn't even panic. Calm as could be, sitting there. Waiting . . .

_Yeah, waiting for you, fuckhead. Waiting for some idiot she could take advantage of after they saved her ass._

No, Bella wasn't like that. So far in the brief time I'd known her, she had never asked me for anything. In fact, she tried to do everything herself without even considering inconveniencing me. One of the kindest souls I've ever met.

I glanced at her, all soft and sweet with my dad, and obviously broken up about what happened outside with my mother.

All at once, I had to look away. I didn't want to care about this woman in front of me. I didn't want to even know her name.

Shoulda been my clue right there she wasn't worth all this shit if she didn't even want to save herself at that point yesterday morning when she was surrounded by undead, locked in a vehicle. Why did I care then?

Why did I care _now_?

Guilt ricocheted through my body, hitting every nerve, making me tense and jerk in my spot.

Every impulse I had told me to go to her, pick her up, hug and kiss her all better—like any parent would do for a small, wounded child. She was so vulnerable and tiny right now.

But she didn't care if she died yesterday. What did that say about her? Was she even worth knowing at this point? Or was she simply useless baggage?

Goddammit, she'd just lost a baby. Of course she was numb to everything. I would've been, too, and I was trained for this shit.

"Fuck!" I slapped my thigh and sucked my lips in. I needed to focus!

I sighed, told myself to quit being a pussy and ran down stairs. It didn't take long to secure some duct tape, then run back up stairs.

I grabbed three bandannas out of my camping gear sack—finally back on task. A couple cotton balls spilled out around them, and out of habit I shoved them in my pocket. With a quick neck stretch, I went back to work and walked back over to him. I stared at him for all of a second, pulled the shirt off his head and prepared myself mentally to stuff them in his mouth by telling myself over and over I had to do this. If I didn't, he would just keep saying the same fucking thing until I went completely insane.

"Edward! Help me!" My dad's eyes cleared for a moment.

"What did you say?" I gasped, taking a step back, almost tripping over her. My heart stuttered and rammed against my ribs several times in less than a second. Each breath felt like I was being stabbed in the ribs.

"He said Edward will help me," she replied softly, leaning in so her mouth was right next to my ear.

I shut my eyes tight, shook my head and bit back a scream of madness. Clearly, I was hearing things I wanted to hear.

He didn't know me. He didn't know _anything_.

But then why was he here at the cabin if he couldn't think coherently? Had they come here and _then_ got infected? Had they thought this a safe haven?

"Fuck," I murmured under my breath. It seemed to be the only word that surfaced in my vocabulary anymore. It was the only word that made sense.

I yanked the gun out of the back of my waistband, set it on the dresser and squatted down into a ball for a second, clearing my head with several deep breaths.

This was why she broke down and cried sometimes when she thought of her baby. She had to watch him die. She was helpless as fuck and had no choice.

I already went through that with Zeke, my brother, but this was way worse, because it wasn't in an ambush attack. It happened so fast. My brother hadn't been talking to me, begging for help. He was dead in a flash, not like now . . . My dad was in front of me this very instant, moving, talking—_looking_ at me, albeit with clouded vision, not _really_ seeing _me_. This all started outside our cabin, where I had spent time with my family over many years. It was happening when I should be able to fucking do something about it!

Bella came to me, leaned over and grabbed the wadded up bandannas in my hand and the duct tape I'd dropped at some point without even realizing it. She moved back over to my father and gently tucked the pieces of cloth into his mouth all while he kept begging for help.

When she was done, she took the duct tape next and was careful to put it on his mouth in such a way it wouldn't pull too much on his facial hair if we ever took it off.

Although, I had no idea why we would ever do that, unless we had to feed him or water him or something.

She stroked his cheek directly after and several tears of hers landed on his forehead.

He was still begging by making unintelligible sounds behind the gag and tape.

No wonder all those throats were severed back in town. This was intolerable to watch a loved one pleading without a voice.

I felt like this was a home invasion, only _I_ was the perpetrator.

She knelt next to him, her attention entirely on him.

I rose slowly to standing. "I can't," I said, voice barely audible, then shuffled out of the room, unable to look at him any longer.

Bella stayed behind.

I walked down the stairs with heavy legs and an even heavier heart.

My shoulder bumped the wall several times as I wound my way down, barely seeing where I was going.

I made my way into the kitchen and somehow managed to grab a beer from out of one of the cabinets.

With a flip of my finger, I had it opened and chugged it down, leaning over onto the counter.

I drank two more right after that one, wishing this would all go away.

Until today I was handling it. _All_ of it.

I hadn't even really needed her to keep going. The only reason I helped her was because it was the right thing to do, and because she was a woman.

A beautiful woman I loved looking at . . .

Fuck! Who fucking cared what she looked like? It didn't matter now. The world was so fucked up, she could have three heads for all I cared.

I snorted and banged the back of my head lightly against the wall.

I knew how to keep going. I knew how to focus. I knew how to survive.

I needed to get out of my head.

I knew how to stay alive at all costs.

But now—I didn't know a damned thing. Not with her around.

She did things to me. Fucking woman . . .

I ran a hand over my face, then went into the living room, falling on top of the couch.

My mind screamed at me that this was my father, not some animal, and I couldn't possibly keep him chained up like that upstairs. And how safe would she be next to him like that?

She was fine.

My dad wasn't. He was tethered like those people in town, only worse because he could barely move an inch. They could roam about a foot or so in every direction.

But this was crazy! That man up there wasn't anyone I knew. He was nothing like my father. He was nothing but a creature with a barely functioning mind.

I groaned and closed my eyes.

At one point, I heard footsteps, but since I knew it was Bella, I ignored it and for the first time in several days allowed myself to drift off a bit.

A wonderful cooling breeze brushed over my bare chest, and I sighed.

My lips curled into a slight smile, and I even sighed, relaxing into the cushions.

A scraping sound occurred upstairs, but it was fine. Bella was up there. She'd handle it.

I needed to stop worrying about her all the time and allow her some space to breathe. That was the whole fucking point of coming to this cabin. Some space where we could both breathe, move and think all this through.

God, those tits of hers, and that ass . . . Curvy little fucking woman, with those big, bright brown eyes and long, thick dark hair. All innocent and sweet and shit. You just didn't find women like her, especially not now. How did I get so lucky to find her?

_Shut up! She's just a woman—you don't know her. Not really. She's as fucked up as they come._

I simply couldn't think about her anymore. Not right now.

"Shit!" I heard her say upstairs.

Jesus. I reached into my pocket with my eyes closed and grabbed two cotton balls, shoving them into my ears to drown that shit out. Without skipping a beat, I covered my head with one of mom's throw pillows.

My mother loved pillows. She had about a million of them on her bed.

The thought made my heart shake me into a silent sob.

I turned on my side, held the pillow down firmly over my head and willed myself to sleep.

After what seemed like hours later, a cool breeze whooshed across my back like it had on my chest earlier, and I heard the unmistakable distant moans that had become emblazoned on my brain lately . . .

"Help me!" several cries came from outside. "I need help!"

Oh God!

I jerked in my spot, ready to bolt to sitting, but something pushed down on the pillow over my head, keeping me in place.

Fuck! No way!

**A/N:**

**I've been getting into this story so much lately, that I went ahead and outlined it. So far, it's looking like it's going to be about 11 to 12 chapters long, so nothing too terribly lengthy, but it should be a fun little read for those of you that like end of the world/zombie-esque stories. Thanks for taking this ride with me. I've been wanting to write a zombie fan fic for a while.**

**Scarlett**


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